


Old Wounds, New Scars

by RevyCaitEll, TheHappyRabbit



Series: Old Wounds, New Scars [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers (Unicron Trilogy), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Autobot rule, Fluff and Angst, Homage to other si-fi fandoms, M/M, Multi, New Threat, Other, Post- War, Prime - Freeform, Primus Meddling in Shit, intergalactic relations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6562693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevyCaitEll/pseuds/RevyCaitEll, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHappyRabbit/pseuds/TheHappyRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preview: “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.” an imprisoned Starscream mutters as Optimus Prime walks away, the divide between Autobot and Decepticon never greater as a new malevolent force threatens a repairing Cybertron. Co-Author: RevyCaitEll</p><p>Summary: The war is over and the Autobots find themselves in charge of Cybertron’s restoration and recovery. Turns out things ain’t so simple. Other nations across the cosmos not only view Cybertron as a disgrace but some are watching the weakened planet with hungry eyes. And then there is the whole problem with the remaining neutralised Decepticon army.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - A Letter From Primus

My Children,

You have done so well. You came home. You have stayed true to yourselves. Most of you, that’s all I can ask for. 

And as I watch you rebuild Cybertron I can’t help but feel pride. You survived. And you shall live on.

I call more of your brothers home, even now. You have spread so thin and now you will all come together once more. I wish it was to celebrate the end of an era of darkness. No, that era has yet to release its grip on you my dear ones.

Now you have a new lesson to learn. 

Forgiveness.

You are all equal. You are all good. You are all evil. You are all mine, and I, in return, am yours. Pain must be ignored, past doings forgotten, previous allegiances dropped. 

The Civil War is over. Let the hate die with the last burning embers and move on. Let new life and challenges arise from the ashes untainted by bloodshed.

A poison spreads through the stars, it's icy clutches grasping all that it can, prosperous worlds reduced to dust. A darkness that cannot be traversed easily. It makes a steady crawl towards you, a new source of life for it to consume.

My Prime, my chosen, please. Listen to your spark. I know it calls to you, whispers its misgivings. 

Till all are one.

But you are not as one. Not yet.


	2. From The Ground Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Authors: TheHappyRabbit and RevyCaitEll  
> Title: Old Wounds, New Scars  
> Chapter: From The Ground Up  
> Universe: Base G1, hints of Prime, Animated, Robots in Disguise 2016  
> Series: Old Wounds, New Scars  
> Summary:The war is over and the Autobots find themselves in charge of Cybertron’s restoration and recovery. Turns out things ain’t so simple. Other nations across the cosmos not only view Cybertron as a disgrace but some are watching the weakened planet with hungry eyes. And then there is the whole problem with the remaining neutralised Decepticon army.  
> Warnings: Gore, Slavery Themes, Rape, Sexual References, Sexual Content, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Death, Foul Language, Substance Abuse, Political Drama, Primus Meddling in Shit  
> Chapter Word Count: 4,488  
> Total Word Count: 4,725  
> Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is ours apart from plots….and they came from bunnies.

“Prime.”

It lacked hostility, resentment, even the sarcasm that Starscream was famous for. It pricked at Optimus’ already weary mind and he glanced at the chained form with an optic ridge raised. 

He had expected Starscream of all mechs to keep fighting, to keep up the battle in some form. His silver glossia, his dry wit, his biting sarcasm. 

The Seeker had been the first to surrender after Megatron fell.

“How are you keeping? No damage I hope.”

Starscream’s lip plates twitched into a sneer but his words were spoken as gently as his damaged vocoder could allow. “I am well. That mech who called himself an assassin didn’t even get to lay optics on me. Tell Jazz I send my gratitude.”

Prime found himself amused. He had learned quickly since the Seeker had been detained that barely anything went unseen by sharp optics. Jazz had even been discreet too. Either Starscream was guessing, with accuracy, or just suspected.

He decided to indulge the colourful mech. “I shall. Jazz can be difficult to entertain at the best of times. He needs something to keep his attention. You and the danger to your life provide him with an excuse to utilise his unique skill set.”

Starscream snorted. “You make him sound like a child no one can control.”

Prime laughed despite himself. “I admit, sometimes I find myself wondering…”

Red optics widened in shock before the Seeker actually laughed. “And here I thought you would never make one of your mechs the butt of a joke.”

Optimus chuckled. “Only when they fit the bill, and always in jest. Jazz is a good friend, if he were here he would probably be laughing along and throwing his own jokes into the mix. He has spread some very creative ones throughout the years.”

“Oh yes! So I have heard.” The Seeker snorted but did not elaborate. “So tell me Prime, why are you really here. I doubt it was to check on my safety. That new so called council would never let you near dangerous old me.”

Optimus was glad of his mask, he had no doubt the Seeker wanted to know about his standpoint on the whole government mess. He would reveal nothing to the mech. Starscream could indeed be dangerous, they both knew it.

“True. I had only heard of last night’s break in when I arrived this morning. And there is no such council, you know this.” Starscream just blanked his expression, which said all Prime needed to know. Starscream didn’t want a council and he wasn’t sure if he could trust Prime not to let a new one form. “I am here to discuss what you, as the highest ranking representative of the Decepticons, wants for his people.”

Starscream let his optics scan up and down his frame and Optimus fought the urge to shift his weight. Since Starscream had appeared to him that day through the smoke, he had learned a lot about the infamous Second in Command.

Despite what intelligence had gathered during the war, Starscream rarely became emotional, which was also contradictory to the Prime’s own memories of his encounters with the mech on the battlefield. Starscream calculated his words and sentences. Even his body language. It was clear now that the Seeker had somehow been manipulating the Decepticon Leader. But for what? What had Starscream’s end goal been? Or was he still striving to reach it?

Starscream was dangerous, of that he had no doubt, but he felt a pull towards the mech. The Matrix had marked him for something and if the Marix wanted him Optimus could not stop it.

Starscream sighed. “My people?” He asked. Voice cracking with emotion. “There are so few of my people left. I failed them once. I will not assume that they wish me to represent them to the Prime.” His optics had narrowed but from what emotion Optimus couldn’t tell.

“The Seekers are few. But it is not they I refer to.” 

Starscream just scoffed. “No. Decepticons are not my people, that has always been made clear.” The tri-coloured frame turned slightly away from him, dark faceplate looking away. This conversation was over it seemed.

Optimus couldn’t deny the wash of disappointment. Starscream had finally become leader to the Decepticons and yet he showed no interest in their well being, unless they were of Seeker origin.

Not for the first time since the end of the war Optimus found himself questioning the Decepticon way of life. He had assumed so much during the war. Opinions he had form from observations and stories.

It was as if Megatron had brought out something in each and every one of them and now that they were no longer exposed to him they were starting to show their true selves.

He turned to leave, not expecting anymore from the bound mech and so was surprised when his voice cut through the heavy silence.

“Give them a chance to redeem themselves. Except Shockwave. He has no spark, never has, even before the war.”

Optimus didn’t turn but answered with a steady voice. “I will try to get them their freedom. You have my word.”

Maybe it was to mock his own words, or maybe Starscream just repeated them to affirm in his own head that Optimus was telling the truth, either way, the whispered words cut deep.

“Freedom is the right of all Sentient beings.”

XxXxX

Prowl dropped another datapad onto his already cluttered desk when he heard the tell tale whish of his door opening. He could barely register the soft footsteps as Jazz sauntered into the room like he owned the place. The racer plonked himself on a chair, rocking back and forth balancing precariously on two legs. 

“Jazz,” Prowl muttered as a form of greeting.

“Prowler,” 

“How was that last mission?” Prowl asked not bothering to look up.

“Ya know, same old, same old. All these Neutrals are talkin’ and complainin’ among themselves. It's pretty divided out there. Some want the old council system back and others want a new form of government. They’ve heard rumours about Earth. Either way, things aren’t too good right now. Even Starscream got an unfriendly visit,”

Prowl listened closely, his processors humming with information and thought. After all this hardship and sacrifice, it would be awfully ironic for another war to start so soon, over the issue that sparked it in the first place: Those in power, those who wanted it.

Jazz drummed his fingers against the table, switching between various beats. A doorwing twitched involuntarily when Prowl recognised the rhythm. Jazz incenstaly played the Earth song over and over any chance he got.

He knew it annoyed Prowl.

“When was the last time you refuelled Prowler?” Jazz hummed, head tilted in scrutiny.

“I'm not in need of sustenance,” Prowl ignored the angry flashing in the corner of his HUD. He’d take care of it later, the new accommodation for the incoming Neutrals needed to be assigned first. Ransack had been him pestering all decaorn. The air was still thick with tension. It seemed that everyone wanted their own bit of power and wealth in the new age. 

Neutrals were some of the greediest, but Prowl felt ashamed at how some of the Autobots were acting. It was like they had forgotten the last few millennia, the death and destruction.

The sacrifices that were made.

“Prowl,” the gentle tone of Jazz’s voice startled Prowl into looking up, spark pulsing with his mate’s warmth.

“You don't need to work yourself into the ground anymore. I can feel how exhausted you are from the other side of the city,” Jazz propped his elbows on the desk, a steady gaze locked on Prowl’s.

Prowl gave him a noncommittal hum in response, along with a flare of annoyance across their new bond. He held back a smirk when Jazz flinched, both of them not used to such an intense sensation in their cores.

In his moment of amusement he remembered something else.

“I think Ratchet suspects,” Prowl replied rather absentmindedly, head dipping back down to continue working as he sent a memory of his appointment with the medic earlier that morning.

Jazz snickered as, in the shared memory, he watched Ratchet frown at a spark reading he was taking. “I'd be surprised if he didn't, but back to you Prowler. I'm not leaving until you take a break,”

“I can work perfectly well with you here,” Prowl flicked his digits across the datapad, fully intending to end the conversation and making the mistake of expecting Jazz to so the same.

Prime had appointed him Director of Cybertronian Law Enforcement, leaving the tactician with mountains of work. He needed to assemble new Enforcer Stations and try keep the peace on the war ravaged planet, while instilling new laws that were to be brought about to prevent another war.

He was fully absorbed in his report and failed to notice the smaller mech move. A pleasant sensation flared across his sensor net from one of his doorwings.

Prowl scowled, turning around to see Jazz preparing to strike again on the other doorwing. 

“Can ya Prowler?” Jazz grinned, a challenge glinting in his visor.

XxXxX

Writing reports didn’t bother Ratchet as much as he let on. He may have raved about the amount of paperwork the twins could wrack up on their own but in truth he found writing out the facts and the plan of action to help get a mech back on his feet relaxing. It centred him, balanced him. 

He could always think, and thus work, better after getting all the information out of the mess that was his processors after a stressful day and getting them all organized and laid out on a data pad. 

Except this datapad sent a shiver down his spinal strut.

From the modified CR chamber a cold, damaged face stared unseeing from the healing liquid. The ghostly silver frame floated, parts missing and internal mechanisms exposed. The eerie glow of a damaged spark grasped out from cracks in Megatron’s armour. 

Megatron was alive, too alive if the medic was honest, but was in a sorry state. The explosion had torn the mech to pieces. He was lucky to still have a spark at all. 

“Keep him alive,” Prime had ordered. “But do not repair him enough to be able to survive out of that chamber.”

So Ratchet had. Against his better judgement. His medical oath whispered in his helm and he tried to quash the wave of quilt. Megatron did not deserve his life, not when he had taken so many others.

But he was compelled to fix him, to keep alive like the Prime had ordered.

The frame twitched, the surface of the green liquid rippling. 

Ratchet frowned. Then again the mech scared the scrap out of him. The constant twitching and facial expressions that made no sense didn’t help the matter. 

Sometimes Ratchet could swear he could hear whispers and would swear even more when he was sure Megatron’s expression would change as if in response to the voice.

Then he would shake his helm and straighten his back. The war had hit him harder then he had thought. 

Looking over the broken frame now he knew there was no way the mech could come back without aid, aid which he would never get.

This medbay was the biggest secret the Autobots ever had. Not even the Neutral leaders knew where it was. 

There was a shocking hiss of malfunctioning hydraulics and Ratchet jumped to attend his other patient.

Soundwave was propped on a berth, wires attached everywhere to his frame, what was left of it.

“Soundwave?” The medic queried gently. The blue mech had never caused him trouble, he even treated Ratchet with respect so the medic decided it was only fair to return the courtesy. “Are you online?”

A red visor flickered on and a soft groan vibrated from his charred neck cables. Unable to talk the mech offlined his visor once for yes. 

Soundwave had been with Megatron at the time of the explosion, had been held captive by the silver Warlord. While Megatron had taken the brunt of the blast and had rather unintentionally sheltered most of Soundwave’s frame, the damage to the tape deck was severe.

His spinal strut had been severed straight through in his lower back, his entire lower half had died without energon and signals from his processor. He was lucky that his internal systems had been on a different pathway. Ratchet had removed the dead parts so that they could try and find a replacement back strut to start building him a new lower body. The process was slow and painful and since most of the material had to be produced from Soundwave’s own repair systems difficult. It was tedious and excruciating, each individual circuit, neurol pathway sluggishly fusing and repairing themselves. 

Ratchet could build the frame work but Soundwave’s own body had to rebuild itself.

On top of that Soundwave had suffered through intense temperatures, melting most of his armour and damaging sensors and near the surface systems, such as his vocoder and radar systems. His cassettes had suffered minor burns and fused wires from the flames but nothing serious and they were allowed to stay in the medbay under the condition that they had signal controlled restraints.

At that moment in time, they were all curled up in a jumble of limbs on another med berth. They were exhausted and not being able to link up with their carrier was taking its toll on their miniature systems. Sometimes Jazz would come and bring them to see Blaster so he could make sure they were functioning properly but the little mechs refused to link with his systems.

They were Soundwave’s cassettes and that was that.

They were admittedly well behaved. The twins, much like the Autobot twins, found it difficult to stay still. Ratchet, the softy he truly was at spark, got thm entertainment cubes and games for them to occupy themselves with. He would often find all of them, even the light shy Ravage, captivated by whatever it was they were playing.

They were bitter though, all of them, and could often be found glaring into Megatron’s CR chamber with pure hatred. If it wasn’t for the field around the tank Ratchet had no doubt the little cassettes would try finish the job themselves.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had led to Megatron and Soundwave being blown sky high but it had meant the end of the war. He would ask Prime eventually but right now he concerned himself with Soundwave’s health.

He gave the mech a small dose of painkiller before checking the areas where he had graphed on new frame work. 

He found himself sighing in frustration.

Soundwave’s body had refused the new material.

Soundwave looked at him with a dull visor, most likely fully aware that the repairs were not taking and rolled his helm to the side. 

Ratchet would never admit to anyone that Soundwave could indeed cry. The first time, Ratchet had frozen, unsure of what to do. It scared him, that he had no idea how to cure the shattered mech. Usually he would be there in seconds, reassuring and comforting his patients.

That time was different. The cold, calculating Soundwave broken and battered.

Physically and mentally.

And Ratchet didn't know what he could do so Soundwave was left to sob as the medic removed the failed repairs.

XxXxX

Despite being brightly coloured Bumblebee had a knack for disappearing into the background if he so wished and right then, he was listening to a rather interesting discussion.

When the war had been declared over the call had gone out across the universe. “Come home.” It had called and so many had answered. Some Neutrals had fled when the war had broke out and were now returning in numbers Bumblebee had never thought possible. Colonies had been established in the fars reaches of space and now representatives from each had returned to help rebuild Cybertron and start trade.

It was fascinating how some bots had adapted to the new worlds. A Colony known as Velocitron was primarily inhabited by racer framed mechs, that and the wide flat terrain of the new planet meant that speed became a must. The Velocitron’s sleek forms were distinguishable even amongst racer frame types. Another Colony named Talon’s Hold had adapted to use beast based alt forms instead of vehicles to be able to transverse the harsh terrain of their new home.

Bumblebee was eager to find out all he could about each new world and the mech’s who had made a new home there and he started his information gathering by talking, listening and observing the new mechs.

Override and Ransack were two leaders from Velocitron. Scourge, who transformed into a dragon, was a leader from Talon’s Hold. Rev was another leader from another colony called Raylos, and still looked like a regular Cybertronian. 

The four of them were engaged in a very heated argument over whether or not they should bother the Prime with some of their concerns.

“Prime has made his stand point very clear regarding the Decepticon prisoners” Override spoke calmly, but his engine gave a warning rumble. “They will not become slaves to the new Cybertron.”

Ransack scoffed. “The Decepticons would never stay slaves for long anyway!”

Scourge growled. “We need to rebuild this planet and why should we break our back struts when it was the Autobots and the Decepticons who are to blame for our planet's destruction.” He raised a clawed fist into the air. “None of my mechs are going to lift a finger to fix the mess of others.”

Override just sighed. “Yes, you have made that quite clear. But then tell me, why should we let you reap the benefits of a renewed Cybertron?”

Why should we let any of them, thought Bumblebee with resentment, they had all abandoned the planet to its fate.

Rev, who was by far the most diplomatic of them all, gave his engine a gentle rumble to get their attention. “Prime has returned home. The planet will come back to us also. In other to progress and not let the horrors of the Civil War be repeated we need to work with each other, not against.”

“Prime.” Mocked Ransack “He couldn’t stop the war, he took part in it, he is as much to blame. I say we get a new Prime!”

Bumblebee nearly howled his engine in anger but practice born of experience let him keep his systems calm and quiet.

It was no secret why Velocitron had two leaders instead of one like all the other colonies. Override was more Autobot orientated while Ransack clearly was more Decepticon and he often showed his continued support for some Decepticon ideals, such as one leader, one voice, one rule.

Prime had insisted that Ransack get a voice though. He had not taken the Decepticon oath, he had not lifted a weapon. He was Neutral and he had quite the following on Velocitron.

Bumblebee could understand why Optimus wanted them to have a voice. He wasn’t about to oppress anyone willingly and without just cause.

Didn’t mean he had to like it, just publically support his Prime.

Override laughed at his smaller counterpart. “Oh zip it Ransack. We all know where your allegiance lies. Rev is right. We need to move forward. Let Pime prove he is just as much a peace time leader as he was a war time one. If he can’t then we will talk of a new Prime.”

“Fine!” Scourge agreed. “But I will not tolerate incompetence.”

“None of us will, Scourge. But remember we are here for our people.” Rev gave a small nod to each in turn before turning on his heel and leaving them to their thoughts.

Override watched him go before nodding, as if to himself, before leaving also.

Ransack and Scourge watched them go with unrestrained disadian.

“They fail to see that Prime is just trying to take all the power for himself.” Ransack snarled.

“Perhaps.” Scourge spoke softly. “But he would always be a far better leader then Megatron.” 

Ransack failed to see the cruel smile that spread across the beast formers lip plates as he was looking away from the mech, but it also meant Scourge did not see the racer’s sly smirk either.

However Bumblebee did, and he felt greatly unnerved by it.

XxXxX

Digger slouched in his chair, pedes up on his desk and helm thrown back over the chairs support. His arms dangled uselessly from his slack shoulders. At first glance, he could have been in recharge, but if one were to look closer they would see a piercing blue gaze staring right back at them.

Comet felt himself jump as he met that gaze. He hated when Digger done that!

He growled his engine, much to the other mech’s amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be watching something?” Comet snapped.

Digger gave a loud sigh before shifting his red and black frame into a proper sitting position. “I was actually thinking of a way to make that hunk of scrap,” He flippantly pointed over his shoulder at the main computer console. “To work better and faster. Maybe even so that we can make live calls home.”

Comet paused his furious typing to look over at the terminal in question. He couldn’t deny that Digger’s idea was a good one. It would be nice to talk to friends real time rather than in stunted messages.

Outpost Nursha was on the furthest outskirts of known space. No Cybertronian had documented or mapped anything beyond the lonely outpost. The nearest Space Bridge and port was a few Earth years away.

Being self sufficient meant that they didn’t often get shipments of energon in. The odd time they were sent things to entertain themselves; new holovids of races, matches, an update of Cybertron’s rebuild. They had even been sent some Earth material; movies and video games.

Comet had no time for such things though, he was sergeant and he had a job to fulfil.

“Have you spoken to Flashpoint about it?” He asked, turning back to his work of writing out his scouting report.

Digger looked thoughtful for a moment. “Not yet, I was just pondering over it now.” 

“Pondering over what?”

Both mechs looked up as Scope entered the small command centre and plonked his little white and silver frame down at his workstation. 

Comet only rolled his optics at the minibot’s cheerful tone, nothing could get the mech down. It could be frustrating at times.

“Digger thinks he can give our main system an upgrade.” His digits once again ghosting over his keyboard.

He could feel the red and black mech’s cold gaze even as the smallest member of their team gave a cheerful whoop.

“Perhaps you can install something that will make even Sergeant Comet smile every once and awhile.” The little bot teased.

Digger just snorted. “I am good at what I do… but not even I am that good.”

Comet had swiveled round to snarl at them when another voice cut across him.

“Don’t sell yourself so short Digger. Despite popular belief amongst this crew our dear Sergeant does infact smile, but only in the right conditions.”

If Comet could blush, he would have.

There, leaning against the door frame, orange arms crossed over dark yellow chassis, was Flashpoint.

“Lieutenant.” Digger gave him a playful salute.

Comet sighed, picking up a data pad and holding it out for his lieutenant to pluck as he walked by.

“What’s the plan today Scope?”

Scope twiddled with some instruments at his terminal before answering. “I have redrawn all the star maps between here and that planet we found last decaorn in quadrant four. I would like to start heading in the opposite direction now and fill in the maps for quadrant six.”

Despite his youthful energy, Scope had outlived them all by a couple of hundred orns. He loved mapping out the cosmos and throughout his lifetime he had become quite talented in the art of star maps. He was their main reason for being at Outpost Nursha in the first place.

Cybertron was on the mend and it had been decided to go out and look for unclaimed resources, both for her reconstruction and growing trade routes. Earth was also looking for new places to colonise in the hopes of relieving some of its overpopulation.

Comet had brought up the preliminary map for quadrant six and was about to say it had at least one planet, but he never got the chance.

The proximity klaxon shrieked through the Outpost. Comet had almost forgot about it ever existing in the first place. Not quite adapted to a time of peace yet, he and the others were immediately scanning the area without pause.

“Talk to me.” Flashpoint ordered, voice taking on his usual commanding edge.

“Quadrant two,” Digger reported back. “Incoming vessel.”

Scope and Comet readjusted their own equipment to observe the recently mapped quadrant.

Scope, with his much more delicate instruments, got the information sooner. “Its some sort of craft. Large. I can’t get a proper fix on it.” Scope’s pale face scrunched in confusion. “If I am right, this is new.”

Comet’s own equipment finally caught up and he could see what had their alarms blaring. The blip on his scanner was new to him, it’s shape and size, its frequency. 

There was a flash and suddenly there were two more blips.

“Did they just jump?” Digger gasped. “Why the frag-”

Several more popped up.

“Oh,” Scope nearly whispered.

Comet looked over at the minibot. “What?”

“I think this is an attack fleet. That’s a flagship, and they look like scouting vessels.”

Comet understood what the mech meant when he looked back at his display. A large blip had appeared, just behind the smaller ones in front. Two had broken away from the main group and were closing in fast on their position.

“Any contact?” Flashpoint’s gaze was fixed to main monitor where he could view Scope’s visuals.

“Negative.” Digger responded. “No… wait! There’s something happening!”

Scope’s machinery was designed to measure everything, from sound waves, to light, to energy readings. That equipment was picking up a strange reading in the form of a colourful cloud that was gradually encompassing the main fleet of ships.

The little mech was already scanning it and somehow Comet just knew it was bad.

“I think we should send a message back.” He said, looking to Flashpoint.

Flashpoint flicked his optics over to him and gave him a discreet nod. He didn’t want to alarm the rest of the crew. “Where are Haze and the Doc?”

Nobody had a chance to answer.

Comet wasn’t sure what had happened next but he knew it was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.  
> RevyCE: I was doing my maths homework, add pizza, lots of sugar and a bored Rabbit… And this is the result. Never say ‘you wanna collab’ to your crazy fanfiction writing sister. Ever.  
> Rabbit: It’s all your fault.  
> RevyCE: Thanks.   
> Rabbit: Not necessarily a compliment.  
> RevyCE: I’ll take what I can get XD  
> Rabbit: ‘rolls eyes’ Anyway, in an effort to actually write this mammoth of a story we have undertaken certain characters to write. CE up there wants you guys to guess on who is writing who.  
> RevyCE: lol Have fun. Hope you stay with us!


End file.
